Left Unsaid
by Fyrewing of CinderClan
Summary: After the Hero of Neverwinter abandons the echoes of her last adventure, a new one awaits; and this one she may not survive on her own. With the help of Tarrel, a ranger fleeing from his past, and Xeric, a fallen paladin, she may just make it through.
1. Prologue

**I have been a fan of NWN for about two years now, and just recently fell in love with the game again. I know it's geeky, but here it is: my first ever fanfiction for anything other than a book. Enjoy.**

* * *

Prologue

The city of Neverwinter was shrouded in mist, a curtain of dark clouds hanging low over the midnight sky. Lord Nasher's spymaster stood silently by the silver window, blending seamlessly with the shadows. The night was quiet, the air fresh and cool, and Aarin Gend had many duties to be fulfilling, but he did not move.

_Something is wrong_.

A spy does not develop a habit of speaking to himself aloud, so Aarin Gend thought this over silently. More minutes passed.

_The city is peaceful…the invaders are gone…but something is wrong._

Then came a noise outside the door of his room. It was so soft that another man would have missed it; Aarin, however, was a spymaster, and he missed nothing. Running footsteps, swift and silent, the run of a barefoot tread.

He crossed the room, opened the door, and stood on the threshold. Around the turn in the corridor, a brief flash of silver disappeared from sight, along with a feathery black flicker at the edge of his vision.

_It's her_.

The worst part was not that he had recognized her, but that he knew exactly where she was going.

* * *

She should have kept going. She should have stopped only after she breached the gates of Neverwinter. And yet, as she darted through the doors of the castle, she slowed to a walk, and eventually stopped in front of the fountain.

How could she leave? How could she leave without saying goodbye?

_I have to_. Gripping her head tightly in both gauntleted hands, she stared into the glittering, reflective waters of the fountain. _They would try to stop me. No matter how angry Lord Nasher is with me, he can't let go of his hero, his image for Neverwinter._

Yet even as she forced herself to think _they_, she knew it was really only one person she was thinking of. One person who she couldn't bear to leave. The one person who was making this migration, this natural moving on, the hardest thing she had ever done in her life.

When he woke in the morning, what would he think? Would he wait for her, thinking that she must have simply slept in, as she had done so often before now? Or would he know? How much pain would she cause him?

The idea of his pain was the only thing that was locking her feet in place. The idea that her leaving would hurt him somehow, since he obviously loved her so much more than she deserved. _I can't stay any longer. Aarin is strong. He'll get over it._

She had to leave. But why did that mean she couldn't say goodbye?

She turned, and of course, she had not heard his approach. Nobody heard him when he wanted to be silent.

"Aarin?"

* * *

She looked so lost then, as she whispered his name, that he wanted nothing more than to make her happy. To tell her to run far from here, to roam the lands as long as she wanted, because he loved her. And for a moment, he was almost strong enough to do so.

Then, of course, as she remained cautiously by the fountain and did not come to him, it faded. The moonlight glimmered on her soft, white-golden locks of shoulder-length hair, and he longed to press her to his chest and kiss away all of the doubt and pain he saw in her cobalt eyes. She was holding her boots in her hand, as intelligent as ever; bare feet were much quieter than booted ones.

"You're leaving." It was not a question, but it required a response.

It tore at his heart to see the agony flash across her face. "I _have_ to, Aarin. It isn't right for me – all of it. I'm a druid. I belong in the forest. Not this city – not here."

"That isn't it," he whispered.

"Aarin, I…" She bit down on her bottom lip so hard he expected to see it bleed. Around her neck was the amulet he had given her, so long ago – long ago, when the sun of Port Llast had made their troubles seem meaningless.

His gaze traced the scars on her neck and hands, testament to that last battle with the Dread Queen Morag. A battle he had not been able to see her through. A battle he had feared she would not return from…

"I was going to come back," she admitted. "To say goodbye. I couldn't go without – I couldn't bear it."

A shadow appeared next to her and blurred into the shape of an enormous dire wolf; her companion, Zephyr. The animal pushed his thick snout beneath her palm and whined gently. "Thank you, Zev," she murmured.

If he loved her enough…if he truly loved her…he would let her go. If it was what she wanted, it was what he must let her do. No matter that watching her walk away would be like ripping his already mutilated heart from his chest. No matter that every second spent without her was an eternity spent in blinding torture.

The dire wolf raised its head and gazed at Aarin with eternally wise amber eyes. _What are you going to do?_ it seemed to ask him.

What was he going to do?

* * *

"Come with me."

The words spilled out before she could stop them, because it was what she wanted most, the only way to fix everything. She knew it was incredibly selfish to expect him to come. He owed his service to Neverwinter.

But she was weak enough to be selfish, when it came to Aarin.

"Please come with me." She went to him, burying her face in his chest and folding her arms around his neck. She felt his warm arms wrap around her back, pressing her to him, and breathed in his sweet, musky scent. It was the smell of safety. "We could go…far away, and…be happy. I love you. How much do you love me?"

He sighed and wrapped his arms tighter around her. Behind her, Zephyr whimpered softly – he had never liked seeing her in such close contact with humans – and she shushed him with a soft click of her tongue.

"I'm still a prisoner. It may not seem like it, but I still must serve."

"Lord Nasher wouldn't try to find us. He knows when to let you go." The words felt like lies on her tongue. Lord Nasher may not expend undue effort on finding Aarin, but he would certainly pour all of Neverwinter's resources into finding her.

"I _wish_ I could go with you…I wish it like you wouldn't believe. But I just can't, Cath." She shivered, as usual, when he said her name. He pressed his chin into the top of her head in response, but continued speaking. "I can't…I told you that if I had to choose between love and duty…"

"I'm not Calli, Aarin!" She felt angry tears beginning to pool at the corners of her eyes and tried to pull away to wipe them off, but she could have been tugging on a stone statue. "You either love me enough, or you don't!"

* * *

How could he do this?

How could he let her go alone? Who knew what dangers faced her on the lonely roads leading away from Neverwinter? How could he let her go, not knowing if he would ever see her again, not knowing when or if she would be safe?

How could he abandon Neverwinter?

"The city needs me," he pleaded helplessly, breathing in the scent of her hair. "I have to help Neverwinter rebuild. Lord Nasher needs me now more than ever. I can't just leave him."

"Can you leave me?" She glared up at him, and a pang of agony shot through him as he saw the moisture clinging to her eyelashes. He could not hurt her. He must _not_ hurt her. "Will you leave me for Neverwinter?"

He relinquished his hold, since he could tell now that she was struggling to escape his arms. Once she was free, she skipped back several paces, her half-elfin grace compensating for the tumble she would have taken otherwise.

"It's you or a whole city," he whispered. "And I don't deserve you. I never have. I don't know why you love me."

"I understand, Aarin." Her words caught him off guard, but not as much as the bitter tone in which she said them. "You would stay and try to rebuild a city that's going to die whatever you do. I won't ask you anymore to come with me." She reached for the amulet hanging from her neck and unclasped it, holding it out to him. "Take it. It'll just be a burden on the road."

He stared at her in horror. "No." Reaching out, he closed his hand over hers and shut her fist tight over the amulet. Her small, white hand looked lost inside his, and he quickly withdrew it. "You'll need the light."

"The light, Aarin?" She stared at him, the bitterness in her voice turning to sadness. "How can I use it to light my path, Aarin, when all it will do is remind me of you? How can I handle all that darkness?"

He could not answer, so he just stared at her.

"I'll keep it. If it makes your pain less. I didn't want to hurt you, Aarin, but I don't have any other choice." She gazed desolately up at him and latched the amulet once more around her pale neck. "I'll miss you every step of the way."

"I love you," he breathed, reaching out again. She touched his palm lightly with her fingertips and gazed straight into his eyes. "Once I know Neverwinter will live, I'll come for you. I'll search for you forever, if that's what it takes."

Taking her hand, he pulled her to his chest and met her soft lips in a passionate kiss, crushing her body to his, feeling the cold metal of her armor against his bare arms. She smelled of calla lilies and sun on the grass, and he never wanted to let her go. Never.

Too soon she pulled away, her lips still parted, her blue eyes glistening with tears. He stared at her helplessly, his hands empty, needing her.

Zephyr yelped softly and she half turned her head toward him. Nodding swiftly, she turned back to lock her eyes on Aarin's again.

She reached up, stretching out on her tip-toes, and kissed his lips softly, briefly, for just a flicker in time. He didn't have time to respond. "Love is cruel," she whispered.

And then she was gone, gliding almost noiselessly across the ground, the enormous dire wolf loping silently at her side. Her sweet scent hung in the air, sending fresh throbs of pain through his chest every time he inhaled.

"Cath," he breathed.

It was too late. She was gone.

* * *

**Well, please review and tell me what you thought of it. My PC, by the way, is a druid by the name of Catharine Rainier. Her animal companion is a dire wolf named Zephyr (she calls him Zev for short).**


	2. Chapter One: Wanderlust

**Here's the second chapter...read and review, please...**

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Chapter One: Wanderlust

Once she was outside the gates of Neverwinter, Cath managed to plod for about a mile with a tear-streaked face and a hand clenched in Zephyr's fur. Then her legs simply fell out from under her. Like a marionette with its strings cut.

Crawling to the side of the road, she curled up in the damp grass and buried her face in Zephyr's neck. "How could I, Zev?" she sobbed. "How could I leave him there? His face! Oh, God!"

After a few minutes, her tearful questions faded into wordless sobs, her shoulders shaking. When Cath eventually fell into an exhausted, despair-induced slumber, the dire wolf gently eased away from her, stood up, and loped off to hunt.

* * *

Cath awoke to the bright sun of midday, rough fur against her back, and the rich, pungent odor of a fresh hank of meat in front of her nose. Sitting up, she twisted around wearily to stroke Zephyr's ears. "Thanks, Zev."

The aroma of the meat reminded her of how hungry she was, and she promptly dug in without bothering to cook it. Many times on her journeys, she had eaten meat this way, until it scarcely mattered to her whether it was raw or not. Seeing Zephyr gulping down remarkable portions with a satisfied smacking sound helped.

Tomi Undergallows, the halfling rogue she had traveled with ever since the Academy, had not been in the least disgusted by her eating habits, though he did prefer his meat cooked. She'd known from his initial greeting, in which he compared the flies of Neverwinter's plagued streets to the ones in an alehouse, that this was a man she could get along with.

Others, however, had not been so tolerant. The priests at the temple of Tyr had been appalled by the fact that she ran on a diet composed almost completely of meat, and raw at that. Most of the druids in the encampment in the Neverwinter Wood were vegetarians. Aarin, on the other hand, had always affectionately likened her to a cat; neat and delicate, but still a wild animal.

She shuddered. _Aarin_.

"Oh, my Aarin," Cath whispered. "Can you ever forgive me?"

Though just _that_ question was enough to keep her occupied for hours, she was soon faced with a more pressing one:

Where could she go?

* * *

"Thanks a lot, Aawill. It really means a lot."

The powerfully built druid smiled kindly at her. "Of course. We would always help a druid in need, even if she was not a member of the first circle. Henna, I think, has some space in her tent, if you would like to stay there."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'll sleep under the stars."

"So be it, then." Aawill waved his hand gently through the air. "Go well, my friend."

Cath drifted away from the Archdruid's campfire, Zephyr plodding alongside her. She rested the length of her arm on his broad shoulders and he nosed his muzzle under her elbow. There were very few creatures she could be at ease with like this, and most of them were animals. Then there was the odd human, like Aarin…

The enormity of what she had done threatened to well up and engulf her, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she deserved this awful guilt. How cold and unaffected she must have seemed to him, as she ran from him, her bare feet soundless on the stone. His eyes had looked so tortured as she held out the amulet he had given her, the amulet she had always carried, even if she had to wrap it around her wrist to make room for another around her neck.

How much pain had she caused him? It all depended on how much he loved her…and she already knew the answer to that one. More, far more than she had ever deserved. More than was healthy for either of them.

What had she ever done to earn his faith? What made her so special?

Sensing her grief, Zephyr whined gently and gave her forearm a lick. "At least I always have you, Zev," Cath whispered, halting in her tracks and wrapping her arms around the dire wolf's neck. He had been her faithful protector since childhood, since she had discovered her druidic destiny.

Just another companion she didn't deserve. But somehow, she never felt that way around Zephyr. He was too much a part of her; it was too hard to think about him as a separate being.

Not like Aarin. Aarin had always been a mystery, even to her. Though, in time, she had learned to see past his emotionless face and find the feeling in his eyes, she had never been able to tell exactly what he was thinking. It was always guesswork.

Did he understand why she had to leave? She doubted it. He must have put it all down on her arguments with Lord Nasher. Those were a big part of it, but not all. The natural wanderlust that had gripped her since childhood had taken over again; she simply _had_ to move on. She couldn't stay in Neverwinter, no matter how much she loved the enormous city. She didn't belong there.

In fact, she belonged nowhere.

* * *

"Will you eat with us, my sister?"

The druids had prepared one of their customary meals: hawthorn and brambleberry stew with hazelnuts and sweet marionberry wine. It all looked delicious, and the aroma rising from the simple wooden bowls was enough to make Cath's mouth water, but she shook her head.

"No, thank you," she said quietly, and Jaer, who had offered her the meal, returned to the campfire.

She knew that, though by name she was a member of the first circle, the druids really didn't know her all that well. Simply a stranger with druidic abilities who showed up one day and managed to defeat all of their defenders. They would allow her to stay as long as she wanted, but she wouldn't for much longer.

She let her gaze travel over the other druids around the campfire. There was Welcar, who cast an uneasy glance her way and fingered one of the scars she had left on his pale neck. Bree, who tossed her beautiful hair out of her face and took a dainty gulp of marionberry wine. More familiar faces…Aawill, Orlane…

…and a strange man sitting between Jaer and Henna, his curious gaze meeting hers.

She scanned his face in a second; strong jaw, sharply angled nose, dark blue eyes. Simultaneously, she sensed the strange man examining her. The sharpness of his gaze reminded her of Aarin.

Aawill, ever vigilant, noticed Cath and the strange man staring at each other almost immediately and stood, raising a hand to each of them. "Cath, this is Tarrel Ragmyr, a ranger who has done our wood great service in the past. Tarrel, meet Catharine Rainier, hero of Neverwinter and trusted member of the first circle."

Cath flinched; she wished Aawill had not introduced her as the Hero of Neverwinter. The ranger's gaze grew even keener as he nodded slowly and murmured in a low voice, "Greetings, Catharine Rainier."

"And to you…Tarrel, is it?"

Aawill was watching them a little too closely for the exchange to be comfortable, so Cath turned her head away and leaned against Zephyr's broad side. Though she could not be sure he was still looking at her, she felt the ranger's eyes on the back of her head; it made it difficult to relax.

The reason she had refused the meal was simple in some ways and, in others, not. For one thing, the hefty meal from this morning was enough to carry her for a few more hours, and for another, Zephyr would bring her back something when he went on his evening hunt.

The other reason was a little harder to think about. As a rule, she generally hated depending on anyone else for survival. Though a simple meal might not require any sort of retribution, one thing tended to lead to another. It was best to steer clear of any debts altogether. Her staying in the Neverwinter Wood didn't really count, since she was using only her supplies, and the wood belonged to no one in particular.

When the druids had finished eating, they drifted off to their separate tents, with the exception of Janken, Aawill, and Orlane, who disappeared into the trees with the silence of panthers, and the ranger, Tarrel, who slipped away from the campfire and laid out a bedroll just beyond the circle of light.

Circling the fire, Cath laid out her own bedroll opposite from the ranger's and sat down, her legs curled beneath her. Rummaging through her pack, she braced herself, and pulled a leather-bound book from its depths.

_Neverwinter Nights_, read the engraving on the cover. The stiff, unread pages crinkled as she opened the book for the first time since the bard, Sharwyn, had given it to her.

Most likely this was a huge mistake. The healthiest thing to do would be to simply forget about everything she had done for Neverwinter. Forgetting was the easiest way to move on.

Sighing, she opened the book to the first chapter and began.

She had not traveled with Sharwyn personally, but the bard had learned much from Tomi, obviously. No doubt paid him a good amount of coin to tell her everything he knew about Cath. The book was fairly accurate.

To her surprise, she found the renditions of her familiar adventures comforting. She missed adventuring with Tomi; those days had been full of excitement and plenty of traveling to sate her wanderlust. She caught herself giggling at times.

It wasn't long before she drifted off to sleep; not happy, exactly, but more content than she would have thought possible under the circumstances.

* * *

From beyond the circle of amber light cast by the fire, Tarrel watched the strange woman sleep, not even close to tired himself. The dire wolf he had seen with her earlier had not returned; he had not seen her dismiss it, so it must be hunting. All for the better; the animal might have noticed his stare.

To be honest, he hadn't expected the fabled Hero of Neverwinter to look like this: just a weary, beaten-down young woman, with the strain of some enormous grief evident on her creased brow. She looked vulnerable, as she lay curled like a cat on her bedroll, her long blonde hair spread into a halo around her head.

The stories he had heard seemed just that now: stories. He could quote a dozen different songs written by reputable bards that described the physical characteristics of this woman, as well as her grace, nobility, and charisma. Nothing came close to the sorrow he saw on her face.

No, it didn't make sense. So he would just have to watch until it did.

As Tarrel Ragmyr watched, the woman began to moan. The sounds started as soft whimpers and built into pained wails; her body began to thrash on the bedroll, limbs uncurling and jerking out as her shoulders bucked uncontrollably.

Getting up from his bedroll, Tarrel circled the fire and stood over the woman, not knowing what to do. Should he wake her? As her wails increased in volume, he made a decision and, leaning down, shook her shoulders firmly. "Catharine?"

At first there was no response; just another dull moan. A shiver ran down the length of her spine and she lay motionless for a moment. Then, as Tarrel prepared to creep back to his bedroll, her bright blue eyes snapped open and her hand flashed out invisibly, locking around his forearm.

He stared back at her as her grip tightened, not daring to speak.

Then something enormous and black leapt from behind her, and the dire wolf let loose a guttural growl in Tarrel's face, its lips curled back into a vicious snarl. Every one of those gigantic teeth was glistening-white and fatally sharp.

"Catharine," Tarrel repeated quietly.

Her arm shook. The blue depths of her eyes never left his.

"Call me Cath," she whispered.

* * *

**I'm sort of "meh" about this chapter, and it's never good to be "meh" about your first chapter. I think the initial meeting with Tarrel may have been a little rushed, though I promise to go into more detail in the next chapter...until then, go well.**


	3. Chapter Two: Seeking Answers

_My laptop, my only source of NWN, inexplicably crashed and is not expected to recover, so until I find another one, this fic is my only outlet for all NWN-related bursts of creativity. *sigh*...it'll have to work....although now I really want to play SoU and HotU._

_Edit: Eek! I accidentally titled this as the third chapter in its first upload while it is really the second. That error has now been corrected and the chapter uploaded again._

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Chapter Two: Seeking Answers

The ranger nodded once, and Cath unclasped her grip around his forearm and let her arm slip back into the close curl of her body. The ranger straightened up – not all the way, but into a sort of half-crouch – and disappeared beyond the circle of firelight.

Cath realized that the leather book was still cradled in the curve of her spine, nestled between her thighs and her chest. The gold lettering gleamed faintly in the firelight. _Neverwinter Nights_.

Giving a sort of half-choked gasp, she grabbed up the book in both hands and pitched it over her head, into the bushes. Zephyr whimpered and lay down next to her, his soft, warm back pressing against hers.

There were no tears. Just a feverish desire for everything to be gone.

Scrambling to her feet, Cath raised her palms to the sky and chanted the familiar incantation of unsummoning, thanking the Mother for the gift of her animal companion. Zephyr whined anxiously and pressed his hot, wet nose once to hers before disappearing in a halo of lake-colored light.

Alone and comfortless, Cath staggered away from her bedroll into the trees, blindly seeking deeper forest.

Unseen, Tarrel followed.

* * *

After four consecutive roots tripped up her feet and sent her sprawling onto the mossy forest floor, Cath's internal druid kicked in, allowing her to slip silently and gracefully through the trees without thinking about it. The miles of forest fell away until she was standing before an altar at the mouth of a stream, littered with ancient bones.

The blood-encrusted stone dagger lay placidly in the stream, exactly where it had fallen after it slipped from her lifeless fingers, the last time she had come here.

"Please, Spirit," Cath whispered brokenly, gripping the dagger tightly in both fists, "please help me."

_And if the Spirit's realm is closed to me and I simply die, so much for the better._

Baring her teeth in what was neither grin nor grimace, Catharine Rainier raised the dagger in her trembling hands and plunged it deep into her own chest.

* * *

Tarrel let out a loud yell and reached forward, a hand outstretched to help, but it was too late; the woman's body crumpled into the stream, the dagger sliding from her limp hand to lie in the flowing waters.

Born of a lifetime of guilt, the first thought that occurred to him beyond the blind urge to help was, _They'll think I killed her._

Backing away, Tarrel turned and sprinted for the druid encampment. His piercing voice carried ahead of his stride. "Aawill!"

* * *

"There is nothing to worry about, Tarrel," Aawill said calmly, folding his arms over his chest. The campfire crackled behind him, silhouetting his powerful form. "Catharine has merely gone to visit the Spirit."

Usually, Tarrel, being a practical, martial ranger, would have raised a skeptical eyebrow, but the shock of seeing the fabled Hero of Neverwinter commit apparent suicide and the subsequent relief of knowing her fate rather changed his outlook. "The Spirit?"

"You are not the only one who has assisted the Neverwinter Wood in the past," Aawill informed him with a slight smile. "Not long ago, after the plague was cured, the Spirit was poisoned, and the animals in the wood turned vicious. Cath learned how to enter the Spirit's realm and cured her. She also rescued three of our druids in the process."

Tarrel's confusion must have shown on his face, since Aawill added, "Is it so hard to believe that the Hero of Neverwinter could have cured the Spirit? If anyone, it would have been her. She is a druid, after all."

"No, no. It's not that I don't believe she did that." Tarrel stared past Aawill, into the bright flames of the campfire. "It's just that…well, I always knew the stories of the Spirit, but…it always seemed more of a fable to me. Do you mean to say that this realm actually exists?"

"Of course. And if you return to the gateway, Catharine's body will have disappeared. The only way to enter the realm is by ending one's life with the ceremonial dagger. It was lost for many years, but Catharine managed to find it. Tarrel, what's wrong?"

At the mention of the ceremonial dagger, Tarrel's fists had clenched tight and his eyes had closed, his shoulders trembling. The old, pale crimson scars on the back of his left hand stood out vividly against his white knuckles.

"I'm fine," he hissed out through clenched teeth. "This dagger. I saw her use it. Would it – would it work for me?"

"It works for anyone, Tarrel." Aawill was watching him so closely he felt like the druid's stare would burn through his flesh. "The Spirit will ensure you can leave her Realm; if you cannot find her, there is a portal in the Realm that will take you back to the gateway. Take care that you do not stay too long – that realm was never meant for living beings."

"Thank you, Aawill." Tarrel turned toward the dark trees, and then turned back to Aawill. "I think it's time that I moved on. Don't worry if you don't see me again. I'll be sure to come back and visit someday."

Surprise flashed across the druid's face. "You've only been here for a day, Tarrel. You've hardly outstayed your welcome. Welcar was counting on sparring with you tomorrow morning."

"It's time that I moved on," Tarrel repeated firmly, and ran fleet-footed for the trees.

* * *

The Spirit was waiting for her near her enormous tree. The Spirit's stag form rippled and flowed with light, fingers of snowy whiteness wrapping around the antlers and sprouting out again to form new tines. Once again, Cath was overwhelmed by the beauty of the Spirit.

The slender form did not move, though the Spirit's wise eyes watched her as Cath drew closer. Only when she extended her hand and bowed her head slightly in a token of respect did the Spirit gently lay her head in Cath's palm. A shock, almost electric, jolted through her arm, but she was careful not to jerk it back.

The electricity faded, and the Spirit's welcome flowed through her entire being, sending tingling warmth up each of her limbs.

"Thank you," Cath whispered, "but I don't deserve it."

The Spirit withdrew her head from Cath's hand and surveyed her. Cath remembered with a pang the wounds she had inflicted on the frenzied, angry Spirit when they had first met. Being a druid, she had had to detach herself from the very heart of her forest-born soul to bring herself to harm the Spirit.

Sensing her thoughts, the Spirit blinked slowly and the warmth of her forgiveness surged through Cath, even without physical contact. Somehow the sympathy in her wise eyes made Cath's breath choke in her throat, and a tear beaded at the corner of her eye. Angrily, she raised a fist and wiped it away.

"Why should it hurt this much?" she demanded furiously. "I've already done everything I can for Neverwinter! Where's the justice?"

The Spirit's explanation unfolded wordlessly in her mind.

Cath struggled not to fall to her knees, her voice cracking. "I know, I know. The pain doesn't come from Neverwinter – it comes from me. But why? What did I do?"

In response, a single image burst like fireworks in her mind's eye: Lord Nasher's spymaster, his arms folded over his powerful chest, dark eyes watching her intently.

The sight of his face made Cath gasp in pain, and this time she did fall to her knees. No words escaped her leaden tongue as she sobbed at the Spirit's feet, her hair strewn over the ground. She thought of nothing as she expended all her energy into the outpouring of every single one of her feelings.

She felt the Spirit touch her forehead gently with her muzzle, just the faintest of pressure. Then the Spirit melted silently away, white tendrils of light coalescing and vanishing into smoke. Raising her head, Cath could not see the Spirit with her tear-filmed eyes, but she could feel her presence around the clearing, warm and fragrant.

Then she felt another presence, behind her.

"Cathar – Cath?"

* * *

Tarrel stared down at the woman's slim form and her shoulders heaving with the force of her sobs, the fury that had brought him to this place fading. The Spirit was nowhere in sight, though he could feel its thrice-damned presence all around the grove.

He said her name quietly, once more. "Cath?"

He waited while the bucking of her spine cooled, and her sobs quieted, until eventually she staggered to her feet and turned to look at him. Her face was flat and emotionless now, though stained with tears. "What are you doing here?"

He had to consider his answer before he gave it. One reason he might be here was to follow her – to make sure she was safe. He couldn't deny that that had been part of his motivation. The Hero of Neverwinter couldn't be easily lost. However, the other reason – the main reason…

"Aawill told me where you had gone, and I wanted to see for myself."

The flat finality of his words was lost on her. "And you just happened to know how to get in? Why did the Spirit disappear when you came?"

Perceptive. That was to expected, though; the Hero of Neverwinter had to be seasoned in both physical and verbal fields of capability, as well as perceptivity. She would never have survived all of her trials without it.

"Aawill told me to get in. And as for your second question, I've no idea how I'm expected to know the habits of such a creature. I spend my days in contact with less unpredictable beasts."

He was unprepared for the anger that flared in her words. "Don't – don't talk about the Spirit like that. Like she's just a common animal. What do you know about her, anyway?"

He hadn't meant to upset her, but neither was he able to control his hatred for the Spirit. Struggling to remind himself that the woman had no idea of his feelings, he forced out, "Fine. I don't know anything. It's – she's not coming back anyway. We should leave."

A spark fire flashed in her eyes. "You go on ahead. I'll leave on my own time."

Stung, he took a step back. "Fine."

* * *

Cath watched the ranger stalk off with the faintest stirrings of regret. She barely knew him – it was a miracle she could remember his name from Aawill's brief introduction – and yet the callous way he spoke of the Spirit had inflamed her. Still, it wasn't wise to be making enemies of someone she had just met and had no reason to hate.

He probably hadn't even known of the Spirit until Aawill told him. All druids who entered the Wood could instantly sense the Spirit's warming presence, but rangers had a less instinctual and spiritual attachment to nature and more of a martial one. Aawill had only mentioned that he had done the Wood a service in the past. That could mean anything, from healing a deer to driving off a few bugbears. The druids weren't exactly choosy when it came to hospitality.

She turned her face back to the Spirit's tree and whispered softly, "Spirit? Are you there?"

There was no response aloud, but a gentle farewell coursed through the positive presence around her, and Cath sighed as she recognized that it was time to leave. She had gotten what she had come for; comfort and a few answers, although not ones she would have had trouble finding herself.

"Thank you, Spirit."

With that, she turned and narrowed her eyes, letting the elfin blood coursing through her veins take over her senses; then, satisfied that the ranger was nowhere near, made for the portal back to the world of the living.


End file.
